


Coming Home

by robocryptid



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Cigars, Inspired by Art, M/M, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-22
Updated: 2018-12-22
Packaged: 2019-09-24 12:50:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,399
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17100920
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/robocryptid/pseuds/robocryptid
Summary: This time Hanzo’s on his knees, thumbs migrating slowly up Jesse's inner thighs, right along the inseam of his jeans. It’s got Jesse’s thighs tingling a little, skin buzzing, but he’s not even looking at Hanzo. He’s too busy lighting his cigar.





	Coming Home

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bloomingcnidarians](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bloomingcnidarians/gifts).



> Inspired by bloomingcnidarians' [gorgeous, and very suggestive, fan art](https://twitter.com/bloomingnsfw/status/1076892818579341313).

First time after a mission, things are always a little _off_.

When the mission takes both of them, coming home together is an intense, half-wild thing. There’s nothing quite like the look in Hanzo’s eye fresh off the kill, the way he looks with his hair in his face and covered in sweat, muscles rippling like an apex predator. If it weren’t for the voice in Jesse’s gut telling him how to stay alive, he’d fall to his knees every time, right on the spot, and the way Hanzo looks at him says the feeling’s mutual. By the time they get back home, the livewire anticipation winding under both their skin’s had time to get mixed up in the relief of coming home in one piece, and it all comes out in a breathless frenzy.

When it’s Jesse who’s gone off on a mission alone, he comes home exhausted instead. Hanzo babies him just a little, puts up with Jesse’s needy, grateful pawing at him, puts up with the clinginess Jesse otherwise pretends to be above. Hanzo never judges or teases in those moments, and the gentleness he’s capable of surprises Jesse every time. It’s the first thing he thinks about when someone seems skeptical of Hanzo: that he’s sweet when it matters most and that he’s never brought up just how much Jesse needs it sometimes. It’s intense too in its own way, even if it’s anything but wild.

When it’s Hanzo who’s had to go alone, there’s no real predicting it. It’s like he comes back a little different every time. Sometimes it’s the same bloodlust translated to real lust, and all Hanzo wants is something quick and rough. Other times it’s somber, like he needs Jesse to remind him he’s got something to come back _to_. And other times Hanzo acts like Jesse’s the one who’s been away and needs to relax. Like maybe like the guilt that eats at him means he’s got to prove to himself that he’s got something to give, or like he knows Jesse’s been tense and worried since he left and he can only think of one way to make up for it.

This time Hanzo’s on his knees, thumbs migrating slowly up Jesse's inner thighs, right along the inseam of his jeans. It’s got Jesse’s thighs tingling a little, skin buzzing, but he’s not even looking at Hanzo. He’s too busy lighting his cigar. It’s nicer than his usual, and the taste of it makes that obvious right from the start. There’s something coffee-like about it, and an earthy, oaky flavor too, one that helps to pare back the almost-too-sweetness of the bourbon at his side. Both the cigar and the bourbon are gifts from Hanzo, for no occasion McCree can think of except that Hanzo’s home.

It’s a good cigar, the kind that makes him relax almost instantly, knees shifting farther apart. Hanzo’s squeezed into the space, pulling Jesse’s shirt slowly free of his waistband. The fabric against his skin almost tickles, but it’s hard to focus on that when Hanzo’s also palming him through his jeans. Hanzo’s not really looking at him either, at least not his face, so Jesse keeps his attention on the drink and the cigar and less on Hanzo’s swift, clever hands working on his belt buckle then the fly of his jeans.

At the first touch of Hanzo’s mouth, Jesse sighs and settles back. Hanzo’s lips are pillowy soft, the inside of his mouth so hot and wet that it makes Jesse’s go dry. Hanzo moves slow but he’s deliberate, nothing hesitant about it at all. It’s more like luxurious, like they’ve got all night and he could spend all of it right here, lips and tongue gliding smooth over Jesse’s cock. Jesse takes another sip of the bourbon and sets it down, unable to stop himself from reaching for Hanzo’s hair.

It’s a light touch, but Hanzo makes a soft sound in his throat; he might only be surprised, but something about it gives Jesse the impression he’s _grateful_. So Jesse keeps petting his fingers over Hanzo’s hair, sinking farther into his seat and feeling the tension slowly fade from his body. Hanzo’s mouth is slick and silky, and he moans quietly every now and then around Jesse’s cock, and the cigar is really, really good, making him feel lightheaded and a little buzzed on top of everything else.

Jesse loses track of the time they spend like that. Long enough that he has to ash the cigar more than once, long enough that his body eventually has enough of feeling relaxed, and the lazy heat that’s been swirling in his belly grows hotter and coils tighter. Hanzo’s lips tighten and his mouth slides all the way down to the fingers he’s got curled around the base of Jesse’s cock. It’s quick and surprising — figures Hanzo’s the first to start really losing patience — and Jesse’s hips shift up to meet him, his hand clenching reflexively into Hanzo’s hair.

Hanzo makes a noise like maybe that’s less invited, and Jesse makes up for it by pulling the hair free of its tie and stroking more soothingly. Hanzo’s tongue moves insistently, and then his mouth screws down hard again, and Jesse’s hand shakes. He has to set the cigar down before Hanzo sucks the rest of his brain cells out and Jesse burns them both.

Jesse’s cautious not to pull even as his fingers get caught in the occasional tangle, and he has to choose between carefully working the knot out with one hand and actually paying attention to Hanzo’s mouth. His hips shift restlessly, and he can feel his stomach getting tight. He strokes a metal thumb over Hanzo’s cheekbone and curls the other hand around the back of his neck, cradling the base of his skull, the undercut bristly under fingers still half-caught in the longer strands. It’s light enough that Hanzo can back off if he wants, but the sound he makes when Jesse’s fingers squeeze at the back of his neck says that’s unnecessary.

Jesse watches now; he’s been avoiding it, knows that it’s counterproductive to trying to make this last, but Hanzo’s mouth moves with more and more purpose, and he thinks _lasting_ isn’t the point any more. Hanzo’s lips are red and wet around Jesse’s cock, dark lashes casting little shadows on his face. It’s impossible to look away from him.

Jesse can feel the heat flaring inside him now. His toes curl in his boots as Hanzo lavishes attention on the head of his cock, and then Hanzo’s mouth swallows him down again and Jesse nearly chokes on nothing but air. It’s a struggle to keep his hips still, to do anything but watch helplessly and listen to the deafening rush of his own heartbeat.

Then Hanzo glances up, right at him, and that’s it, that’s all it takes. Jesse barely has a chance to gasp out half a warning before he’s coming, fingers still grasping at the back of Hanzo’s neck. He doesn’t know how long that takes either, only that Hanzo doesn’t take his mouth off him until he’s oversensitive and shuddering a little with the aftershocks.

His fingers feel a little numb, but he still manages to coax Hanzo up and ends up with a lapful of him. Hanzo’s lips are wet and red and swollen, and Jesse’s relentless in kissing them, in licking the taste from his mouth and gently untangling the knots Jesse made in his hair. And Jesse knows that maybe this started as something just for him, but Hanzo’s mouth has always been the kind Jesse could get lost in, and Jesse’s never gonna get tired of the way he tastes or the way he looks when he comes — when _Jesse_ makes him come — and so if Hanzo tries to argue, Jesse’s got a good case for this being for him too.

Hanzo doesn’t argue this time, just lets Jesse guide him to the bed and falls apart in Jesse’s arms, under Jesse’s hands. For all his patience before, this part goes quick and easy, like Hanzo was ready to go just from sucking Jesse off. Jesse waits for him to doze off before he settles back into his chair and relights the cigar, limbs looser than they’ve been in weeks and a quiet, satisfied grin on his face.


End file.
